On the Loose (2 page)

Then the room goes black.

No lights. No noise from the TV. Nothing but the sound of the wind howling in the rain and the house shaking at the force of it.

The dog growls and paws at the tub.

I scratch his ear. “Rocky, calm down.” But who can blame him? I’m about to pee my pants myself.

The walls begin to vibrate, and Rocky catapults out of the bathtub, barking at a new noise.

“Got that cushion over you, Katie?” Millie’s voice is higher-pitched than usual, and our huddle gets tighter.

The dog scratches at the door, whining and yelping.

“You shut the door, right?” Millie whispers to her husband. “Rocky, come here. Come on.”

An eerie sound like a distant jet plane has me holding my breath in fear.

The door creaks open then crashes against the wall, as the dog frees himself from the bathroom.

“Rocky!” We all call out in unison.

The jet sound grows louder.

And closer.

I can hear things flying against the house. Or maybe it’s hail.

“I’ll get the dog.”

“No, James. Rocky’s more likely to come to me. He’s got to be under the bed. I’ll run out really quick and get him.”

“Millie, no.”

Ignoring her husband, Millie makes a dash for the door, calling for the dog.

Just as the bedroom window explodes.

My ears fill with the pounding of my pulse. The alarm can no longer be heard, and the jet sound is now more like a train—coming for our house at mach speed.

“Stay here!” James flies into the bedroom, calling his wife’s name.

“I’m over here! Just got a little scratched.”

I can’t see a thing, except for the bedroom occasionally illuminated through the doorway by lightning. My eyes don’t leave the door, and I only release my pent-up breath when the shapes of my foster parents are back in front of me.

James shuts us in the bathroom, and we gather close again.

The wind roars, and the Scotts cocoon around me. James is talking, but I can’t hear him. Tears slip down my face, and I grit my teeth and bury my head into Millie’s shoulder.

The house shakes and sways, as if it’s fighting to stay in place. Glass shatters somewhere else in the house. I hold on for dear life.

And then it stops.

My breathing is the loudest thing in the room as the locomotive sounds fade away.

“Is everybody all right?”

The calm timbre of James’s voice fills me with relief. We’re okay. We made it.

“Katie?” And now Millie’s voice.

My body sags against her.

“I’m good.” Though my head is spinning. I can’t believe I just sat through a tornado. Maybe the Weather Channel will want to interview us.

“I’m going to get a flashlight. Everybody just stay put for now. I think we lost a few windows, so there’s probably glass everywhere.”

James returns in a moment, the beam of his light illuminating the bathroom. “Millie, you said you were okay.”

“I am.” She tenses beside me. “Oh . . . I see what you mean.”

My eyes follow the path of the light, and I see Millie’s white shirt.

Covered in blood.

I
don’t know
what smells worse, me or the emergency room. I’m rain-soaked from the run in, I’ve got Millie’s blood on my shirt, and on the way here a wet dog decided he wanted to cuddle.

The clock in the waiting room says it’s almost eleven. The Scotts and I sat here for two hours before Millie’s name was called. Apparently the tornado really did a number on the town, and there were injuries, some much more serious than Millie’s.

I take another sip of my coffee. My foster parents don’t like for me to drink the stuff at night, but it’s an old habit from my days with my mom. Living with the Scotts, I’ve learned to appreciate some of the finer things in life, like a safe place to sleep and food in the cabinets. Equally as important, I have developed a taste for mochas and iced lattes, but the courtesy coffee in the waiting room doesn’t even include creamer.

I’m holding onto Millie’s purse and cell phone. Maxine, Millie’s mom, has texted about every five minutes since we’ve been here.

ANY WORD YET?

Totally bored, I’m grateful for the distraction. I punch in my reply.

NO. STILL WAITING. WILL LET U KNOW.

Just as I hit send, Millie and James come up the hall and enter into the waiting room.

“Do they have to amputate?” I joke.

Millie smiles, but James acts as if he didn’t even hear me. It has been a long night though.

“The doctor removed a few small pieces of glass out of my chest. No big deal. A few stitches, some ibuprofen, and I’m good as new.” Millie’s eyes land on my coffee cup, and she raises an eyebrow.

“What? I was so worried about you, I had to Millie. I didn’t want to drink it, really. But in a moment of weakness and despair, the coffee pot called out to me, and I gave in.” I bow my head in mock shame. “If you want to send me back to Sunny Haven, I’ll understand.”

Sunny Haven is the girls home I had the distinct non-pleasure of living in for six months before coming to stay with the Scotts. My mother is doing a little time for her side business—well, OK, her only business—of drug pushing, and here I am.

“All right, our little drama queen, let’s go.” Millie grabs her purse from the orange vinyl seat next to me. “We need to go check on Mother, then run by the church and the Valiant.”

The Scotts own an old historical theater, the Valiant. They completely renovated it last year, and I got to help. But that’s a long story.

James looks at his watch. “I’m going to take you ladies home after we look in on Maxine. I’ll go to the church and the theater myself. Millie, you should probably be taking it easy so you don’t pull some stitches. And Katie needs to be in bed for school tomorrow.”

“School?” I trash my coffee and put on my most pitiful face. “James, I have suffered terrible emotional trauma tonight. I sat cheek to cheek in a tub with your dog. I endured a tornado. My foster mother was nearly taken out by a window, and I had to wait in the ER for nearly three hours with only a
National Geographic
from 1992 to read. Don’t you think I need a day of recovery?”

Millie laughs and pulls me to her. “I think that calls for a day off. Given the reports we’ve heard about the damage in town, there will probably be a lot of kids absent tomorrow.”

Elation races through me. Yea! I get to skip school tomorrow! No PE for me!

Then reality sets in. Millie would never agree to me missing school. When I came to In Between High, I was a little behind on the credits, and I’m only now starting to make some good progress. There could be an outbreak of measles, mumps, and scabies, and Millie would still probably force me to go to class.

“Are you sure all the doctor gave you was ibuprofen?” Maybe Millie hit her head, too, and we just don’t know it.

A gray-haired man in scrubs walks down the hall, calling out to the Scotts.

“Millie, I forgot to give you this.”

He joins us in the waiting area, and hands my foster mom a piece of paper.

“Here’s the prescription for pain pills, just in case. I know you said you didn’t want to take any, but should you change your mind, I want you to have this.”

“Thanks, Dr. Carnegie.” Millie hands James her purse, and with her hand at my back, leads us toward the exit, suddenly anxious to leave.

“Don’t forget, call my office in the morning, and I’ll make sure the clinic gets you in for a mammogram. With your family history, we really need to check that out.”

Millie smiles and nods, and as the doctor departs, I put myself in my foster mom’s path.

“What? Family history? What is he talking about?”

Millie’s gaze travels to her husband, and the two share a look that probably communicates pages of information between them, but leaves me clueless as ever.

“When the doctor was patching me up, he noticed a lump. My sister had breast cancer so he wants to check it out, just to play it safe.” Millie shrugs it off. “It’s nothing. We’ll talk about it later, Katie. Right now, we need to go check on my mom.” She grabs James’s hand. “And since Katie and I are taking the day off tomorrow, we’re going with you to see the church and the theater.”

We walk out to the car, the rain now a light mist. Rocky’s tail hits the seat, and in his excitement to see us, he barks a welcome.

I push him out of my way and climb in the back.

Millie’s words play over and over in my head. Lump? Cancer? What if something happens to her?

What will happen to me?

“It’s about time
you got here. I could’ve been whisked away to California in that twister, and you people probably wouldn’t even have noticed.”

Maxine, my seventy-something-year-old foster grandma, is holding open what’s left of her door. She’s obviously not hurt. She’s immaculately put together in a velour jogging suit, perfectly matching nails, and some sporty Pumas. See, Maxine thinks she’s my age. Her birth certificate, a document that mysteriously disappeared sometime in the Nixon era, is the only sure proof we have she’s a bona fide senior citizen and not a kid. Well, that and her wrinkles.

“Maxine, we called you before and after the storm. I think I’ve talked to you at least twenty-five times tonight.” James walks around surveying the damage. “And not once did you happen to mention part of the roof on your apartment is gone or that your windows were completely blown out.”

The Scotts and I take in the trashed apartment in shocked silence while Maxine inspects her daughter.

“Mom, where were you when the tornado hit? In the hall? The bathroom?”

Maxine becomes a flurry of activity, picking up stray clothing and shoes that are scattered everywhere.

“Mom?”

“Oh . . . yes, yes, I was in a hall.” Maxine’s eyes meet mine, and she silently demands my help.

Millie’s dad died a long time ago, and after all these years, Maxine has finally found herself a Mr. Right in Sam Dayberry, the Valiant caretaker. Though it doesn’t make much sense (and with Maxine I’ve learned things rarely do), my foster grandma insists her relationship with Sam is kept hush-hush. So her own daughter doesn’t even know she has a honey.

“Well, whose hall were you in?” Millie steps around an upturned lamp.

“You said you were going to a friend’s house tonight to watch TV, right?” I chime in. Kind of weak, but it’s the best I can do and still be truthful. Maxine was obviously over at Sam’s.

“Right. That’s definitely what I was doing.” Maxine’s head bobs a little too eagerly. “Sooo . . . looks like I’ll be staying with you guys for a while. I’ll go pack my bag.”

“Wait a minute.” James puts a halting hand up. “I think this is totally fixable. Maybe even for tonight. I’ll just grab some duct tape, and—”

“James, there’s not a single window left intact. Glass is everywhere, and it’s raining in part of the living room. She can’t stay here.” Millie plants a fist on her hip, a sure sign she’s not in the mood for James’s funny business.

Maxine waggles her eyebrows at her son-in-law. “Don’t worry. You won’t even know I’m there. As long as I get breakfast in bed, remote control privileges, and Millie’s home-baked cookies every night.”

“Our house is kind of a mess too. I would never dream of you being the slightest bit uncomfortable. How about a nice stay at the Coach House Inn?”

Maxine clutches her chest and gasps. “The Roach and Mouse Inn? James, I am hurt . . . I am appalled . . . We’re family.”

Rolling his eyes, my foster dad picks up a displaced dining room chair and sits down. “Go pack your bags. But pack light. If I have to call in HGTV to fix this place quickly, I will.”

Maxine claps her hands in excessive, obnoxious glee. “Come on, girls, you can help me pack. Oh, wait, Katie, just you. Millie’s injured.”

Great. Nothing like the privilege of folding your foster grandmother’s undies.

I follow Maxine down the hall and into her leopard-print bedroom.

“Grab that suitcase there.” Maxine points to her closet. “Be careful of the glass.”

“Will you be taking the Hello Kitty luggage?”

Maxine mumbles something that sounds like
duh
, and I grab the bag.

“Did Millie tell you everything the doctor told her tonight?” My foster grandma is not known for being tight-lipped, so if I can find out anything else about Millie and the cancer, Maxine’s the source. And Millie was talking so quietly on the phone in the car, I couldn’t catch all of the conversation.

She grabs some shirts off hangers. “Yeah. I guess. Glass, stitches, and some aspirin, right?”

“The doctor said he found a lump.”

Maxine drops a shirt. “What?”

“She didn’t tell you that part? Dr. Carnegie says he wants her to come in for some test. A mammogram.”

You don’t get many quiet moments around Maxine. But this is one of them.

She sits on the bed, despite the fact it’s slightly damp from the rain coming through the windows. “She didn’t tell me the doctor said that.”

I dig for more information. “Do you think Millie—”

“Hey, ladies, we need to get a move on.” Millie appears in the doorway. She hesitates and looks at me.